


LOVE AMONG THE RUINS

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Drama, F/M, HEA, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: How Esther Denham and Lord Babington surmount various difficulties and triumph in their relationship to claim their HEA.
Relationships: Babster, Esther Denham/Lord James Babington, Lord Babington/Esther Denham, esther denham/lord babington
Comments: 20
Kudos: 54





	LOVE AMONG THE RUINS

**Author's Note:**

> Deviation from the final episode, and continuation. Centered entirely on Esther and Babington, no Sidlotte within. A rape is *briefly* depicted, but not in excruciating detail. One possible tag warning missing as it would reveal a major plot event.

She hadn’t wanted to see or admit it to herself even as the sordid reality became more obvious, and now that she had to face several unhappy truths at once, Esther Denham was hit hard by both loss and fear; loss of the only man she’d ever loved, and the fear that went with the uncertainty of her life going forward without him, and her precarious financial state.

Esther had worshipped Edward, following his lead faithfully in all things, most of her life. She’d believed he was everything she would ever want in a man. She’d never considered a different life with another person. It was the desperate grasp at their aunt’s inheritance that had slowly allowed her to see who and what Edward really was, someone who was prepared to use anyone in any way he saw fit in order to achieve his ends. A man who would lie, cheat, and steal to get what he wanted and who would say anything, promise anything, without meaning a word of it. She meant nothing to him. Money alone was his love.

Edward and Clara deserved each other, as cold as ice and now mutually scornful, lashing out to deflect the blame for their deeds on the other. Clara was gone now. Esther didn’t know what Edward would do. Perhaps he would sell some of the art in their home and gamble away the proceeds in London. At least if he did so he wouldn’t be in the house as a daily reminder of his treachery. She was now weary of the sight of him as well as heartsick.

She spent more time at Sanditon House. She and her aunt were feeling their way with each other. At least the old woman was no longer quite so needlessly cruel. She seemed to sense that Esther had been beaten in some way and was no longer interested in challenging her. Perhaps she thought that the possibility or even probability of being the heiress was keeping her biddable. There was truth in that. Esther was tired of the struggle to avoid poverty and tired of being beholden to those with no love for her.

Love. She’d thought she knew what it was, because she knew that she loved and had been certain she was loved in return. For Edward, it hadn’t even been passion, because he had never wanted her enough - had never sought to do with her what he’d done with Clara. She was glad of it, now, even though it left her feeling utterly rejected.

Her thoughts turned unexpectedly to Lord Babington. She had refused to allow him to touch her heart because of Edward. She had not needed him then and she didn’t want to be under any man’s control now. But there had been something about his proposal at the time which had both frightened her and drawn her to him. She had found herself wanting to give him a chance, wondering what it would be like to be spoiled not just by money but by kindness, and to live in a world of warmth and laughter. Youth had almost passed her by, and she was coming to realize that she regretted it.

Lord Babington would be lost to her forever now. She had insulted him so thoroughly, had made so sure to trample his pride, that he would no longer want anything to do with her. He’d been in town for the regatta but had left. If she had been capable of dressing and going into town on that day she might have seen him, but she was still caring for her aunt then, as much as the old woman would permit.

She didn’t know how to feel about him because she hadn’t permitted herself - Edward hadn’t allowed her, if she was honest - to feel anything for him but scorn. She knew almost nothing about him, really. He might be the sort with half a dozen mistresses who would beat a wife, for all his charm. He might be a gambler or an opium addict. He might very well be someone she should not regret. Better to think of him that way. Safer. Yet she did not believe it. She would never have been drawn to him or been tempted by him at all, if he was anything like Edward; there would have been no reason to be.

Esther had been uneasy the last two times she had been in the house with Edward. He’d thought at first he could persuade her, make her believe that he cared for her and things would go on as before, sharing any inheritance with him. He’d been furiously angry when it hadn’t worked. There were times she was afraid he was going to strike her. She hadn’t been at Denham Place since, but she needed a change of clothes and the attention of her maid with some things, so she rather reluctantly returned home.

She thought Edward was out, since the house was silent. She hoped he might be making arrangements to leave Sanditon. Seeking something that would bring her a few minutes of peace, she sat at the fortepiano and began to play softly.

She didn’t hear the door to the drawing room open, or anything else until she felt his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, and made to stand and face him, but the pressure of his hands increased and he would not let her rise. Her heart sped up.

“My beautiful sister the heiress,” he purred, brushing his lips across the back of her neck. Esther shuddered, and he felt it. His fingers dug cruelly into her flesh and she screamed softly.

“Edward, leave me alone. It’s done, and will not be undone. There is no point.”

“Oh, there will be a point, Esther dear,” he continued, his breath hot on her neck. “I learned from that bitch Clara that you were rather distressed by the knowledge that I took her as I chose, but had never ventured to possess you. She’s more than likely spread it all the way to London that we’ve had relations for years. Now, if you were with child, what would they say? No inheritance for Esther, hm? If I can’t have the money, neither can you. And you’ll be a ruined woman besides. Lord Baboon wouldn’t want you any more, would he? And as an extra reward, you’ll have what you claimed to want.”

Panic filled her. The servants might not hear, or help her if they did, and there was no one else. He was both larger and stronger than she was, and she could not stop him.

“Edward, it won’t get you anything. Why bother?” she stalled, hoping he would change his mind if she could keep him talking.

“Revenge, my sweet sister. It will get me revenge on the old bitch, on you, on bloody Sanditon and on the whole damned London _ton_ who have kept me out of their society. I have nothing left to lose. Nothing at all.” His eyes were icy, and hard.

In one quick movement he had pushed her to the floor and was atop her, tearing at her skirts and undergarments

“ _NO,_ Edward! Please, don’t!”

“Please? You’re asking me, please? I asked something of you, and you said no. There is no ‘please’ any longer, sister.”

“For the love I once felt for you,” she begged.

“Not good enough. That love hasn’t gotten me anything after all. At least I’ll have this happy memory.”

She screamed, fighting as hard as she could, scratching him with her nails, but it only made him angrier. There was searing pain, which seemed to go on and on. She had even lost the voice with which she could protest, unable to be heard any longer. For those interminable minutes there was nothing but pain and shame and a wish to be dead, to stop it.

Her consciousness was penetrated by sudden loud voices, then shouting, and the sound of breaking glass. The sharpest pain had ceased, and Edward’s weight was no longer upon her.

“Get out of here, now, or I’ll kill you, Denham. Pistol, sword, my bare hands, it matters not to me. I want your blood very badly sir. OUT of my sight, and this house!”

“This is not over,” she heard Edward bluster.

“If you breathe a word to anyone, I’ll come after you and you will not survive our meeting. You may count on it.”

There was a huff, and the sound of Edward’s boots receding across the floor.

Babington. Her rescuer was the one person she would not have wanted to know about this for anything in the world. Shame and despair superceded the pain.

He picked her up in his arms, rearranging her skirts to cover her, and lay her on the sofa, putting a pillow behind her head. He brought her a glass of brandy and held it to her lips. It made her cough, but she drank it all. She couldn’t look at him.

“You have witnessed my shame-“ she began bitterly. He covered her icy hand with his.

“My dear Miss Denham, the shame is in no way yours. You are not to blame. Put that thought from your mind. I’m only glad I was able to put a stop to his monstrous deed,” he assured her. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“We must get you seen to. I feel it best to take you to Lady Denham, for your safety.”

“No, not there. She will despise me even more than she already does. I cannot have her know. Please, Lord Babington,” Esther whispered, hating to beg him for anything.

“She is not as unfeeling a person as you believe, Miss Denham. I visited with her before I came here. It was she who sent me. You ought to give her a chance. You cannot remain here, regardless. Come - let me get you away from this place.” Very reluctantly, Esther nodded.

Babington easily picked her up again and took her out to his carriage. He wrapped her in a blanket, and they drove away. Esther kept her eyes closed. She feared if she opened them and looked about her she would be sick. She was afraid she would be sick in any case. She had begun to tremble in a manner she could not control. Indeed, everything was suddenly spinning out of control. Babington kept hold of her hand. It was the only thing that grounded her.

When they arrived at Sanditon House, he left Esther in the carriage while he went in search of Lady Denham. When he returned, he carried her up to the bedroom she had been using. He lay her on the bed and sat with her, still holding her hand, until the housekeeper and a maid appeared. When the housekeeper said that Dr Fuchs had been summoned, Esther was again certain all was lost, that so many should know.

Babington stood, and let go her hand after giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I must leave you to the proper attentions of others, Miss Denham, but I will remain close by should you need me for anything, and I will return tomorrow. I will not abandon you,” he whispered fiercely in her ear.

When he had gone, reality and misery overtook her. She wept silently while she was undressed and bathed and put into a nightdress. There had been blood - at least, enough of it to merit comment from the maid before the housekeeper shushed her. She wept at the knowledge that her beloved Edward would do such a thing. She was not entirely shocked, considering his behaviour since Lady Denham’s rejection of him, but it hurt nonetheless because it offered further proof that all his honeyed words had been lies, and she’d believed them. She was not so clever as she might have believed herself to be after all.

She was alone for some minutes before Dr Fuchs arrived. Esther was surprised at how gentle and kind he was, how calmly he questioned her. Perhaps, she thought, her aunt had misjudged him. She had undoubtedly suffered injury, he told her, as it would be unusual under the circumstances if she had not. Still, it did not seem unduly severe and with two or three days of rest she should be largely recovered physically. He prescribed sleeping powders, and something that should ease her discomfort. Before he left, he dosed her with one of the powders. Although she was sure it would not work, she was asleep within a quarter of an hour.

When she woke she knew it must be night as the heavy drapes were drawn and lamps were lit. There was also a fire. She started when she realized her aunt sat in a chair near the bed, watching her.

“How do you feel?” The voice was absent its usual accusatory sharpness.

“I - “

“I won’t bite you, child.” It was said more softly still.

“I am..as well as I might expect, I suppose,” Esther murmured.

“If I ever see that beast again, I’ll set the dogs on him,” Lady Denham offered. “I do not blame you. I had begun to understand, from the night you spoke to me, when you all believed I was dying. He had you under his spell. But you were brave enough to rebel at what you knew wasn’t right. When Lord Babington came here earlier today looking for you, he also spoke to me of his suspicion that Edward was causing difficulties for you. He shows a remarkable loyalty to you, girl, and a tenacity of affection. He’s not only a wealthy man but also a good one, I think, who would make a kind husband. I’ll not push you, or insist, just think on it. Now, I’ll retire to my bed and have them bring you some supper. Take heart, all is not lost.” Lady Denham rose. She bent over Esther stiffly and dropped a kiss on her brow before she left.

Esther was stunned. Her aunt, being kind and not blaming her or shouting ruin on the family name. Not insisting she must marry Lord Babington either. She must have been affected by her near-death after all, it seemed. And Babington had sought her out, had defended her to Lady Denham even before he’d seen Edward force himself on her. She wondered what she had done to warrant such concern. She couldn’t credit that others recognized she’d been caught in a web and couldn’t extricate herself before it was too late. She had never thought there was this much kindness in the world. It was yet another way in which Edward had misdirected her. 

She found that she had more appetite than she expected to, and was able to eat some soup and bread, and take a glass of wine. She was given the medicines Dr Fuchs had left for her, and let herself drift into oblivion.

She was awakened by the maid bringing her breakfast and opening the drapes. The first thing she was aware of was how stiff she felt, her body bruised and sore, and that she had more pain where Edward had forced himself upon her than she had been aware of yesterday, when she was in a state of shock about everything. It was a reminder of the brutal nature she’d long blinded herself to. She was depressed at feeling ever more vulnerable and dependent on the kindness of others.

When the maid returned to help her dress, Esther found she could not, in that she did not want to dress, sit up, move around and have to pretend she felt as normal. She put a warm dressing gown on over her nightdress and the maid brushed her hair out and tied it back with a ribbon. The housekeeper arrived to say that Lady Denham and Lord Babington wished to see her if she felt well enough. She wished they were not coming to see her together, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Babington might haved asked if she felt somewhat recovered from the day before, but one look at the lines of pain and sorrow in her pale face and the words died on his lips. Lady Denham wondered if they should perhaps postpone the discussion, but decided to continue because she didn’t know her niece well enough to be sure if waiting would be beneficial or not.

“Esther, Lord Babington has something he wants to propose to you,” her aunt began.

“Oh.” Esther swallowed nervously. She had heard only the word ‘propose,’ and dreaded what must come next.

“Miss Denham. I feel, and Lady Denham agrees with me, that your leaving Sanditon for a while should be undertaken. This has become a place of sadness for you, and a change of scenery would be beneficial to your state of mind. I propose that when you are well enough to travel, I should bring you to London, to stay at the home of my sister Lady Knox. She is a widow, with only one child left at home, the others being away at school. It would be as quiet or as lively an existence as you wished. And I would be near enough, in my own home, to see you and to be of any service you might require.”

“But what will your sister think about it - about me?” Esther wondered, caught off guard by the suggestion.

“I am sure it will suit her. She’s rather lonely, and I have spoken of you to her previously,” Babington added shyly. “I can send word to her to expect us in a few days if you will agree.”

“Aunt?” Esther asked softly.

“There is no issue of propriety, since you will be residing in a separate household. I have no objections. I think it will do you good.”

“May I think on it, and give you my decision this afternoon?”

“Of course, Miss Denham. It’s understandable that you should need time to consider. I will await your summons. Lady Denham?” He rose, and escorted Lady Denham out. Esther was once again alone, and a bit lost.

One the one hand, she would like nothing better than to be away from Sanditon, and gossip, for a time. On the other, she was feeling rather fragile just now. She was used to Sanditon House and her aunt, and she felt protected here. Traveling all the way to London to stay with a woman she’d never met and to also be under the protection of Lord Babington was a not a prospect she thought she would have the fortitude to deal with at this moment.

Esther wondered what expectations he had of her. She knew what he hoped for, but not what he might expect, regardless of his claiming he had no expectations at all. That simply could not be so. She had to think about it in regard to both of them - what he might want and what she felt able to give.

She had reconciled herself, as a child and before she loved Edward, to marrying someone she did not love and simply submitting to her husband and enduring the marriage bed. As she grew older, daydreams of herself in bed with Edward had made her blood run warm enough that she had looked forward to such relations after all. His lips and his hands had excited her in ways she very much enjoyed. That had been shattered by his betrayal and then his assault. If wifely duty was anything like what he had done, she didn’t think she could bear to submit to it.

She sent for her aunt, alone. That lady seemed to know that advice might be required of her.

“Aunt - I know that there has been little feeling lost between us until recently, but I have felt at least secure here. If I go with Lord Babington and find that after a time I don’t wish to stay in London -“

“I’ll not force you to marry him, girl. If you wish to return to Sanditon you’ll have a home here.”

Esther sighed in visible relief.

“Forgive me, forgive my ignorance Aunt, but I beg you - are all relations between husbands and wives as..as I experienced? So violent and..painful?”

Lady Denham sighed, and shook her head.

“No, they are not, unless the man is a complete unfeeling brute, although it’s true there are plenty of those about. I doubt Lord Babington is one of them, from what I’ve observed. It will depend on your feelings for each other, what it may be like for you or any woman, and the care he regards you with. But what that vile creature did - no, it certainly ought not to be like that.”

Esther let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Thank you. May I see Lord Babington now? Alone, please?” she pleaded, her voice hardly above a whisper. Lady Denham snorted softly, standing.

“You know it shouldn’t be allowed, of course. Mind you aren’t alone with him for very long,” her aunt warned.

“Thank you.”

There was a soft knock and Esther called “Come in.” Lord Babington seemed apprehensive and uncertain, not the confident, carefree man she had previously experienced.

“Please sit down.”

“How are you feeling, Miss Denham?”

“I am a little better, thank you. Lord Babington, are you certain your sister would not find my staying with her inconvenient, if not slightly scandalous? It’s a considerable imposition,” Esther ventured. Babington smiled easily.

“We are of similar disposition, Mariah and I, and quite close. She will not think of passing any judgment, nor would her friends, and she will welcome your company.”

“Sir - I must know what your expectations are, of me and of my stay with your sister. Please do me the courtesy of being honest with me. I must know.”

Babington took her hand and warmed it between his own. Although she ought to find the gesture forward, she knew he meant it to comfort her. As forthright as she was with her tongue, Lord Babington seemed to be the same with his feelings - at least, his feelings for her.

“I expect that being away from Sanditon, and being able to go out riding and walking and indulging in the inevitable female habit of buying ribbons and furbelows, will put a smile on your face and a bloom in your cheeks that I hope to see restored there. I hope that in your own time, your ordeal will fade enough in memory that you will be able to look forward to leading a contented life with someone. I would hope that it might be with me, but I do not demand or expect it. I’ll never put you in any sort of cage, or consider you to be in my debt. You will be as free of me as you wish to be, though it would give me pleasure to be in your company.”

“Truly?”

“As much as it pains me to swear it, I do, because I want both your trust and your happiness, Esther Denham. Whatever else we may come to be, I want to be your friend.”

“I have never trusted anyone, except ….” She stopped, and bit her lip. Babington gently squeezed her hand. “It would be a relief to feel I could trust someone. But since I am not accustomed to the feeling, I cannot guarantee that I wouldn’t hurt those I trust, without wanting to or meaning to.”

“Don’t be afraid, dear girl, not of me.”

Esther sighed, still somewhat reluctant.

“Very well. I will go to London to stay with your sister. And..I am grateful, for all you’ve done, if I do not express it properly. It is all so-“

“I can scarcely imagine your distress and confusion, my dear Miss Denham, but you will not regret it. I’ll write a letter to Mariah and get it sent on by courier.”

Alone again, Esther welcomed solitude as she always had, but she also could not now avoid thinking of her future, and how she felt about Lord Babington. Already, she had begun to feel safe with him. She looked forward to seeing him now, even when she might still be slightly uneasy in his presence. She hated being vulnerable and feeling weak, but she was both of those things at the moment and yet he had pressed no advantage.

She did not feel about him as she had felt about Edward, she was certain of that.. It was what had decided her to keep refusing Babington before her aunt’s illness. He did not make her heart beat faster, she felt no breathless passion in his presence. Yet he made her smile, and she did feel safe with him. Was a happy disposition in her presence, and she on his arm about Town, still enough for him to wish to marry her after this?

She no longer had any wish to be unkind to him, or ungenerous. She didn’t mean to be unfair either. She resolved to do her best to let things unfold as they would, and to be as open to receiving his attentions as it was possible for her to be. She was afraid, but she knew she was at a crossroads and there would be choices she must make. She had already erred badly enough in her judgment so far that whatever happened now could hardly be worse.

The following day, Esther dressed and forced herself to be up and about a little. She spent part of the day deciding what to pack to take with her. Lady Denham came to give her opinion, and Esther found herself actually listening, and agreeing about a few items. Her aunt also brought her a simple necklace of small gold flowers with a medium-sized but perfect emerald at the center, and matching earrings.

“It will look far better on you, with your hair, than it ever has on me, and you’ll be going to parties and balls. It’s best for pretty pieces to be seen, I think.” Touched, and more emotional than she’d allowed herself to be for years, Esther hugged her with true affection.

On the day of their departure, Lady Denham also told her that she had transferred a bank draft to an account in London so Esther would have her own funds and not be wholly dependent on the Babingtons, brother or sister. At that, she cried.

“I believe I will miss you, Aunt,” she confessed.

“I expect I’ll miss you as well, my dear. Of course, we’ll see each other again. For now, go, and be happy. Let him make you happy,” Lady Denham advised.

“I shall try, Aunt.”

Lord Babington’s own coach was far more luxurious than any public coach, and although they had miles and hours of rutted, bumpy, muddy road to travel before they reached London, it would be a more comfortable ride than Esther had previously experienced. The cushions were soft, and there was ample room for her feet. A blanket was placed over her knees and a warm shawl over her shoulders. She couldn’t be better looked after. She found she liked the feeling, as well as Babington’s solicitous warmth. Where once she would have taken it as false or as played with an ulterior motive, she was coming to believe he cared for her, though she still couldn’t think why.

They stopped halfway in their journey to water and rest the horses and to eat, and Lord Babington paid the coaching innkeeper to let her have the use of a room to freshen herself and to lie down and rest, so she would not arrive in London tired and sore. Except for being rather anxious about meeting Lady Mariah Knox, Esther had begun to experience the long-forgotten childish pleasure and excitement of a holiday journey. She had something to look forward to, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way.

It was late afternoon when the carriage pulled up before the Knox house in Grosvenor Square. Lord Babington called to Lady Knox’s servants about the luggage, and helped Esther down.

Mariah Knox stood in the doorway, smiling. A small woman, especially next to her burly brother, she was the elder of the siblings, perhaps in her early 40s, with darker hair than Babington. Her smile was welcoming, and she took Esther’s arm and ushered her inside immediately, to sit in a fashionable, well-appointed parlor.

“My dear, you must be very tired after the journey. I do hope Jamie has looked after you.”

“He has, Lady Knox.” She had known, she supposed, that his name was James; she must have heard it. From all she had observed of him thus far in their relationship, he was indeed a Jamie rather than a James; it suited him perfectly.

“Goodness, please do get the introductions out of the way so there’s no more need for this Lady and Miss nonsense. Refreshment will be here shortly.”

“Miss Esther Denham, my sister, Lady Mariah Knox.” Esther blushed when he introduced her with that tone in his voice that indicated he felt her some rare treasure. It made her uncomfortable, but she was beginning to appreciate the emotion behind it.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Denham. I would like it if you came to call me simply Mariah, as I hope we will be friends. But I want you to be easy in your feelings. I know you find yourself unsettled and we are only just acquainted. Call me as you will, and I will be as formal as you prefer - or not.” Lady Knox’s eyes were kind.

The caustic haughtiness Esther had adopted years ago as a defence against an old shyness had deserted her with Edward’s assault. She was stripped bare now. Mariah Knox had to know of her past and most likely also knew what had befallen her.

“Thank you for your kindness, Lady - Lady Mariah,” she compromised, stammering.

Lady Knox smiled in understanding. Miss Denham needed time, and space, as she had advised Jamie would be the case.

“I believe you deserve a bit of kindness, Miss Denham.” A small dimple appeared when she smiled.

Tea arrived along with some little sandwiches, and they spent the next hour making general conversation, Mariah Knox trying ever so gently to put Esther at ease. She and her brother spoke of Lord Babington’s two nephews, both away, one at Eton and the other at Cambridge, and Isabella the youngest, upstairs with her governess. She revealed that she wished his consultation on a business matter the following day, and divulged that in two weeks there was to be a ball that would be attended by the Prince Regent.

“When you are agreed, Miss Denham, we shall do a little shopping and make some calls, so you will have some acquaintance before the ball. Does that suit you?”

“Yes, Lady Mariah, I would like that.” Her eyes spoke her thanks as well.

“It will be a few hours until dinner. I’ll show you to your room so you can rest, and change. I believe Matilda has already put your things away for you.”

Alone in her room after the maid had left her, Esther allowed herself to relax. Lord Babington’s sister was a kind woman who wanted to help her. There was to be no pressure upon her to do things and to go places she wasn’t ready for, and she would have the opportunity to learn more about the man James Babington was. She was no longer so anxious about having come to London.

It was strange, and refreshing, to have a meal in pleasant company without arguments, dark looks, pouts, anger and scorn. At the end, little Isabella came in to tell her mother and uncle good night. She was twelve years old, small like her mother, with fair hair. What a difference being loved and cherished meant to a child, Esther thought, remembering herself at that age, alone and lonely, before Edward had come into her life. No wonder she had fallen under his spell - and spell it was, she realized now. Bless Lord Babington for having seen that, and not some perversion in her, as others did.

He bid her good night after dinner, leaving for his own home a few squares away. He would see her tomorrow, and as often as she liked, she had only to let him know. But, he said, he knew she would want to settle in with Mariah and he had no expectations of seeing her constantly. She could scarcely imagine another man who would treat her so. He seemed determined to behave towards her exactly the opposite to Edward. Or was his character simply the natural opposite?

There was a knock on the door as Esther sat on the bed brushing her hair. She was in her nightgown and robe, the maid having helped her undress and tended to her clothes. At her acknowledgment, Mariah opened the door and entered.

“Do you need anything, my dear? Are you well? Oh, your beautiful hair. Mine has never been half so thick, you’re lucky.”

Before Esther knew what was happening, Mariah Knox was sitting on the bed next to her, brushing her hair. It was intimate - too intimate on bare acquaintance. It was presumptuous. She ought to feel intruded upon. Yet these Babingtons, brother and sister, instinctively knew what she needed and that it was more important to her now than proper protocol and manners. Rather than being frightened or annoyed, there was that feeling again - safety.

The soothing pull of the brush through her hair, hypnotic in its ordinariness, lulled her. Mariah’s low, soft voice, speaking soothingly of inconsequential things, pulled something out of her she couldn’t stop. Suddenly she was crying softly, unable to care at her vulnerability. Mariah put down the brush and simply held her.

“Dear girl, it will be all right, truly it will. What’s past is past, and there is happiness ahead for you, never doubt it. There, go on, let it out. You’ll feel better for it.” A calming hand stroked her hair as sadnes and fear overtook her.

“There - better now, I think? Have a small glass of sherry, and try and get some sleep. The world will look brighter in the morning.” Lady Knox poured the sherry and handed it to her.

“I believe it already does.” Esther smiled faintly.

“Good.” Mariah pulled back the bedclothes and tucked Esther in as if she were Isabella. Perhaps she was, tonight.

“Thank you, Lady Mariah.”

“Sweet dreams, Miss Denham.”

After a day of rest during which the only activity was writing to Lady Denham, taking a turn round the square with Lady Knox, and being filled in on the latest London gossip and who was likely to be at the ball, they set out the following day and subsequent days to see and be seen. They shopped, they dined, and they made calls and had tea with Lady Knox’s intimate circle. Mariah was only introducing her to those whom she trusted, who might be curious but would be polite in their curiosity and present an opportunity for Esther to tune her social conversation to others regarding her history and background before the ball, when who was present and who spoke to Esther, and the manner of the conversation, could not be controlled.

Lady Susan Worcester was one such friend. Esther knew that the woman would not have had a positive experience of her in Sanditon and would likely have formed an opinion of her based on the town gossip and those whom she had befriended.

She was a very observant woman however, and fortunately a fair one, so she strove to take Esther as she presented herself - quiet, a bit repressed and with a slight air of melancholy but yet polite and well-mannered and seemingly quite well educated, with opinions of her own which she attempted to harness in her new society. The young woman was attractive, intelligent and genteel, if her eyes spoke of sadness. And if James Babington, one of her fondest acquaintances along with his sister, had fallen for her, there must be substance and worth there. She would do what she could to provide protection for Esther.

Lady Knox and Esther had a public luncheon or two with Lord Babington, and as they encountered people he knew, he introduced her. There were carriage rides in the park, both accompanied by Mariah and on their own. Esther enjoyed his company. He was as intelligent and well read as she, educated, and capable of being as serious as the occasion called for as well as more naturally light-hearted, born of a happy life, than she had ever been. He certainly cheered her and made her laugh, and she treasured that.

There was an evening at the opera, which delighted her. When Babington suggested it, Lady Mariah had caught the genuine pleasure in her eyes and made sure her brother followed through. Esther had always loved music. Once, as a girl, she had wondered what it might be like to sing to the admiration of many on a stage in London or Paris or Vienna.

It was true that she had not liked to sing to order like a toy, and protested when her aunt requested it. By that time in her life she felt caged and stifled, and there was no joy in singing. After the opera, when they were in the carriage and discussing the performance, in her excitement she sang a little of one of the arias from memory without thinking about it. Such was the sweetness of her tone that both Lady Mariah and Lord Babington were rendered speechless.

“Miss Denham, yours is the voice of an angel, truly.”

“It is charming of you to say so.” She was embarrassed now that he felt it necessary to praise her.

“My brother offers you no false accolade, my dear. Your lovely voice is something to be proud of. It will surely bring pleasure to others whenever you sing.”

Trusting Lady Mariah to be honest about her when she felt that Lord Babington might not be, Esther blushed and smiled. “Thank you - both of you,” she acknowledged. It had been a very happy evening.

The invitation to the ball arrived in due course, and the ladies began to put their preparations in motion. One afternoon while they were discussing gowns, Lord Babington arrived. Happily indulging them as an audience, he sat while his sister modeled between three gowns, of which he approved of two and declared he could not decide between them.

With reluctance, because the idea of displaying herself or presenting herself for any man’s approval was something that she felt would always vex her, Esther appeared in a rich emerald taffeta gown. When she dared to glance at Lord Babington, the look in his eyes as he stared at her was one no man had ever given her before - certainly not Edward, and not even Babington himself. It made her shiver, but not with fear or dislike - it was an entirely new feeling. 

“It is a lovely gown, Miss Denham.” She watched him struggle _not_ to ask her to wear it, guessing the effect that would have on her, and she felt a jolt of affection towards him for the effort. He was being true to his word; he respected her feelings.

“Shall I wear it then, Lord Babington?” She smiled genuinely as she asked the question, looking into his eyes, acknowledging his effort.

“It becomes you very well. If it would please you to do so, by all means.”

“It does please me.”

Lady Mariah’s keen eye had missed nothing, and she was equally happy about this new state of affairs for both Esther and her brother.

Esther was nervous. Few occasions in her life would be more important than this ball. It was her true introduction to London society. It was impossible that no one attending would not have heard anything at all about her. Who knew what rumors there might be, beyond the ear of Lady Mariah or Lady Susan, and who might attend. She held a secret fear that Edward might appear, and destroy her as he had tried to do at the Sanditon ball. The things he could say. He could even injure Lord Babington’s reputation.

While they waited for the carriage, Lady Mariah took her into her private parlor.

“My dear, I know you’re anxious about this evening. I wish I could assure you without doubt that it will be trouble-free, but I cannot. Still, I believe it should prove to be a good first step into London society for you. You know we will look out for you - I shall, and Jamie, and Lady Susan. Lady Charlotte, and Lady Rowena. You do have friends here, Miss Denham.”

“I’ll do my best to make a good impression, for your brother’s sake as well as yours. Only a few short months ago I would not have cared a fig if the evening were a disaster or what people thought of me, and I would have happily used my tongue as a weapon in my defense, as I once wielded it against your brother. But I no longer relish such circumstances. I have changed somehow, I think,” she admitted.

“Or perhaps your previous unhappy behaviour was the change, and you are now returned to your true nature,” Lady Mariah suggested with a smile and a pat on Esther’s gloved hand.

“I no longer know, sometimes, what is real and what is not. It frightens me, because I’ve always been so sure of everything and everyone. I’ve had to be.”

“You’ll be fine. And I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself as well. You deserve it.”

“Thank you. I certainly hope to.”

There was a tap on the door. It was Lord Babington, looking quite impressive in court evening dress. It could be said that when they first gazed at each other both were equally affected, and both blushed at the regard in the other’s eyes.

“Ladies, your carriage awaits.”

Esther had been to many balls, but never in such richly-appointed surroundings or with so many guests either royalty or members of the peerage. The little girl in her, who had become more in evidence since she’d come to London, wanted to gawk a bit, to stare and take it all in, but Miss Esther Denham, niece of Lady Denham of Sanditon House, squared her shoulders and regarded the scene with an air of calm familiarity, whatever she might be feeling inside.

She was introduced to many, and smiled and laughed and charmed most of them. If some tended to stare and whisper behind their fans, she did her best to convince herself they were only curious and cautious. Not everyone judged or befriended on first acquaintance.

She really did enjoy dancing with Lord Babington. He was an excellent dancer, and enjoyed it as much as she did. She of course danced with his friends as well and a stranger or two, but she danced with Lord Babington enough that it was taken note of. She herself wasn’t thinking of it, only that she enjoyed herself most with him and felt safe and carefree in his company.

At a break in the dancing, taking refreshment and talking with Lady Susan and Lady Rowena, Esther glanced across the room - and froze. There, in somewhat too-animated conversation, stood Clara Brereton and a rakish, slightly intoxicated young man, his hands entirely too possessive for propriety.

“I - I think I must have some air. Please excuse me for a moment.” Esther turned and made for the door. Clara however had seen her, and was making her way determinedly across the floor.

“Miss Denham.” Esther’s hand clenched her handkerchief tightly.

“Miss Brereton.”

“How is your charming brother?”

“I haven’t seen my brother in weeks.”

“How interesting. Are you free of him then?” The question did not seem malicious, but rather curious.

“Yes, Miss Brereton, I believe I am. And how are you faring at his loss?” Esther pointedly looked towards the young man.

“Circumstances dictate my life, Miss Denham, as it has ever been. One does what one must to survive.”

“I hope that you..prosper, Miss Brereton. I believe if not for you, my eyes might never have been opened.”

Clara cocked her head. “He who came between us is to blame for much. But that’s the way it is with men. They think they control everything. I am determined they will not control me. I’m glad to learn that you may feel somewhat the same after all.”

Esther gave a silent nod of assent. Beyond Clara, she saw Lord Babington coming towards her, and at the same time Clara’s young lord was bent on retrieving her. The couples murmured pleasantries, nodded to one another and then moved apart, back into the rhythm of the ball.

Babington could see that Esther was white as a sheet and not looking well. He took her arm and led her to the corner of an empty anteroom.

“Are you all right? Is she threatening you?”

Esther shook her head. “I thought she would, but she didn’t. I’m all right now, or I will be in a few minutes. I was just frightened she would bring it all back again, here, in London.”

“Of course you were. You’re sure she won’t pursue you?”

“I cannot be sure of course, but it doesn’t seem so. If she wanted to, what better occasion than here, tonight? Thank you for noticing, and coming for me.”

“Of course. You know I’m bound to look after you, even when you don’t want it,” he teased gently.

She looked up at him, slightly abashed.

“My objections seem to have largely fallen away,” she admitted.

“I’m very glad to hear it.” Babington looked pleased. “I had come to ask if you would like to be presented to His Royal Highness, but - do you feel well enough?” he asked with concern.

“I think..yes, if I might have a glass of punch,” Esther decided. Now that her fright was fading, it was something she wanted very much.

The punch was procured and consumed, and Lord Babington escorted her into the Prince Regent’s presence. Later, she remembered little of the encounter except a very stout man who eyed her lasciviously, wheezed, and had terrible breath. She had, Babington told her on the carriage ride home, made a favorable impression.

Esther found herself very tired indeed. Her nerves were over and she could relax, as the evening had been a success. All was well. To her mortification she fell asleep in the carriage, though she rallied a bit at home in the foyer.

“I haven’t thanked you,” she fussed. “It was a lovely evening..most of it. I did enjoy myself. I never thought - the Prince Regent - thank you both.”

“I should be thanking you, my dear Miss Denham. To escort you was the greatest pleasure. You’ve had an eventful evening, of course you’re tired. I shall leave you to your rest. Good night.” Babington gave a short informal bow and turned to leave.

“Good night, dear Lord Babington.”

Her voice was low, and full of affection. It brought a lump to his throat. He shot a look at his sister, and left. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to tell her, but he could not; it must come from her. Still, he had more hope now than ever before.

The pleasant days continued. The calls, drives, theatre parties and balls went on. They toured Lord Babington’s large residence nearby, the family’s London home where both Lord Babington and Mariah and their younger brothers and sisters had been brought up when they were not at Clare Abbey, the Babington country estate. Esther found herself humming, wanting to sing aloud. She’d begun to think she might have found happiness and contentment after all, despite once thinking it impossible.

She was out in the carriage with Lady Mariah and Lord Babington on a chilly not-quite-winter late afternoon. They’d had luncheon and were on their way back through crowded streets. There was apparently a cart accident ahead according to the driver, who could see far ahead. Traffic was at a standstill for several minutes at a time.

Esther glanced out of the window at the busy street. Something - someone - caught her eye, and she gave a little scream, covering her mouth. She shrank back into the furthest recesses of the carriage. It was so very unlike the Esther that either Lady Mariah or Babington knew that it concerned both of them.

“Miss Denham, what is it? Miss Den- Esther, for God’s sake what has frightened you so? Please, tell me,” Babington begged. She grasped his hands very tightly but did not look at him.

“Edward. I saw Edward.”

“Dear God. Are you certain? Might you have been mistaken?”

“Edward.” Her voice was dull now, dangerously flat, and she had drawn into herself.

Babington looked out, scanning the crowd. He thought he had a glimpse of someone who was of the general appearance of Edward Denham, who might be him, or might not. When he looked again, the man had disappeared.

“Do you think he saw you, Miss D - Esther?” In his agitation, Babington had no patience with propriety.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t see him, but I believe you,” he assured her, pulling her shawl and that of Mariah about her, trying to warm her. She was shivering now, but he doubted it was from cold alone. He could not say he’d seen the man, but there was no reason Edward Denham could not be in London. She might well have seen him. He didn’t yet know precisely what, but he would have to do something about it.

When they arrived home Lady Mariah took Esther straight up to her room. At her instructions the maid built a fire, and once Esther was in bed, a warming pan was put to use. She seemed unable or unwilling to converse. After she’d had a dinner tray from which she ate almost nothing, Lady Mariah gave her laudanum and sat with her until she slept. She asked the maid to watch over her until she returned, and went to speak to her brother about what it all meant. She had thought James had told her everything about Esther, but she realized by Esther’s reaction in her belief that she’d seen her brother that perhaps he had not.

The next morning, after she had picked at a breakfast tray, Lady Mariah came to speak with her.

“James is trying to see what might be found out about the whereabouts of your brother. He has commissioned men to inquire. But you must know you are safe in this house. No one can harm you here.”

Esther looked at her with uncertainty. She had kept her secret, and while she’d kept it, Lady Mariah had been her friend. But if she knew -

“Did he tell you-“

“Yes, he did. You must see, he had to tell me, so that we might best plan how to protect you from your brother, if he is here.”

“What you must think of me,” Esther whispered.

“Oh my dear, I think only that you were a victim of a terrible man who took advantage of you, used you for his own ends, and then took revenge upon you for having the courage to stand up to him,” Lady Mariah assured her.

“I have been such a fool, so naïve and stupid.”

“It is not your fault. My dear Esther, from what Jamie has told me, your recovery from your assault was admirable, and you were quite calm. Perhaps too calm. I believe you have not allowed yourself to think of your violation, for that is what it was. You have largely shut out the pain, the fear and the anger as if it had not happened. When you saw your brother it came back of a sudden,” Lady Mariah suggested.

“I couldn’t stop him. He wanted to do it to hurt me. He never loved me, ever. He cared nothing for me.”

Esther burst into tears and was held and rocked in Mariah’s arms. She cried for a long time, but when she had exhausted herself she was more at peace.

Lord Babington came in the afternoon.

“If he is indeed in London, he will be found. I have men inquiring about the city.

“If you find him, what will you do? What can you do?”

“Warn him off at the least. Threaten him. Do what I must to insure he leaves London.”

“Do not meet with him, please. If..if you were to come to harm because of me, or there was trouble with the law or the courts, or - “

“Or if I were to do him a violence, as I long to do?”

“Please, don’t. Please. I couldn’t bear it if - do what you think necessary, but have someone else take action. Do not see him. I know he is more treacherous than I ever believed,” Esther begged.

“You fear for me? There is hope then,” he teased gently.

“Don’t joke,” she sniffled, smiling against her will.

“Try not to worry. It may take a little time to find out anything. Just know that you are safe, and cared for more than you know.”

“I am..beginning to know. Will you come..every day? To tell me what you’ve found, of course.”

“I will,” he assured her, daring to press his lips to her hand as he rose to leave.

Esther couldn’t be coaxed into leaving the house for another two days, and even then she preferred to stay close. Lady Mariah indulged her. She too was slightly anxious about this man unknown to her who had done terrible things. She put up a front of confidence for Esther’s sake, but she was uneasy.

The weather turned bitterly cold. London was freezing, literally. The water in the fountains, and the lakes and ponds. There was frost after sundown that didn’t melt away until near noon. It was no hardship to remain at home because it was simply too cold to go out.

After three days of this, Lord Babington came to visit. He asked to speak to both his sister and Esther. His manner was grave, and Esther began to panic again. He saw it in her face, and could not bear it.

“Esther - he is dead. You have nothing to fear from him any longer. I will tell the tale, short and unhappy as it is, but you must know the fact at once - he will never harm you again, in any way.”

She went pale and still, but maintained her composure fairly well.

“He was found in cheap lodgings. He had been drinking heavily, and there was little food to be seen. There was no fire, no wood or coal. It is believed he died as a result of alcohol and the cold. There was no one to blame, and no crime committed - though there might have been. There was evidence that he was planning to try and blackmail you, or both of us. It has all been destroyed. There is no longer anyone to tell or threaten anything. It’s done,” Babington finished wearily. His sister could see the strain in his face.

“I’m glad you didn’t..that you weren’t involved. Poor Edward. He hadn’t always been this way, or treated people so badly. I can pity him - that’s all right, isn’t it?” Esther asked in a whisper.

“It is a measure of your good heart if you do,” he told her. “But I am not surprised. You are nothing like him. I’m sorry, I want to stay with you, but I have to finish this business for good and there are still details which must be attended to. Forgive me.”

“Of course. Thank you for telling me. Please, take care of yourself. Rest as soon as you can,” she urged. She was slightly in shock, but Lady Mariah was, as always, a comforting presence.

Esther really did feel almost equal measures of relief, and sadness at how lost Edward had become since their childhood. Yet the Edward he had been at his death, with his cruelty and empty bravado, would no longer be able to threaten her or those she cared about, would never be able to hurt her, or them, again. It allowed her to feel free, and she accepted that gratefully. She was now able to live her life as she chose and love whom she chose.

Lord Babington. James. Jamie. In her heart, which though bruised still beat strongly, she thought of him as Jamie. His sweet, genuine smile. His care of her, and his joy in her. It made her happy. _He_ made her happy. Passion alone never had. Still, she had found herself beginning to want to know his touch. She wanted him to hold her, and to kiss and comfort her. She wanted everything that not so long ago, she’d thought she’d never have.

When he returned that evening, Esther asked Mariah if she would mind leaving her alone with her brother for a time. Scarcely able to hide her pleasure, Mariah agreed. They sat near enough to each other on the sofa that they could touch. Babington regarded that as a good sign. He hardly dared hope any more for his heart’s desire, but still he loved her, now more than ever.

They talked of nothings for a few minutes, then Esther fell silent. She looked into his eyes, and her mouth curved upward.

“Lord Babington. There is a question you once asked of me which I answered firmly in the negative. If you wish to ask it of me again, I am prepared to answer in the affirmative.” She held her breath.

Such a light came into his eyes. A shining, purely happy light, like a child who’d finally been given a longed-for gift. She was humbled at being able to put it there. He took her hands in his.

“Miss Denham, will you consent to be my wife?” She squeezed his hands and nodded, tears coming into her eyes.

“Yes, Lord Babington, I will.”

He made an unconscious soft, happy little sound that touched her very much.

“May I kiss you?”

“I would be rather put out if you didn’t.”

He laughed and leaned forward, pressing his lips gently but firmly to hers. To his surprise and delight she returned the kiss decisively. She meant him to understand that a proper kiss was in order and she was willing. Therefore a longer, more intimate kiss was swiftly undertaken.

“You take my breath away. Literally,” Jamie laughed, recovering, his complexion pink and his breathing rapid. “Esther. May I call you-“

“Yes, Jamie.” He made the little sound again. It made her want to hug him. Instead, she moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He dared to put an arm about her, and thrilled as she leaned against him. She did her best not to be aware that there were tears in his eyes that just might have leaked down his cheeks a little.

“I am so very happy,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

“It’s I who should be thanking you. You and Mariah have done so much for me. I’ve never experienced such kindness before. But I’m not marrying you because I’m grateful, you mustn’t think that. I’m marrying you because I want to. I choose to. Because..I love you. It’s a different feeling than I had for Edward, but it makes me happy. You make me happy,” Esther told him, burying her face in his waistcoat.

“My dearest Esther,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I believe I am the happiest man in the world. You shall not be sorry, I swear it.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Shall we go and tell Mariah?”

“I think she already has a suspicion,” Esther laughed. “I would like to sit here alone with you for a while longer, but I suppose it’s not fair, is it? May we have champagne? I do love it, and haven’t had it very many times.”

“All the champagne you could want, my darling. If Mariah has none I’ll send to the house for some and have it brought over,” he grinned. “I want the world to know how happy I am.”

“So,” Esther smiled at him, “do I. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”

“Oh my darling, don’t,” he shushed her with a gentle squeeze. “We are both happy now. That’s what matters.”

Mariah was given the news she’d fully expected, and even Isabella and her governess were brought into the celebration of the small, close family. Mariah would write to her sons of the news. The coming week they would tell close friends, announce it in the newspaper once Lady Denham knew, and begin to plan a wedding.

Esther’s worry over Edward had taken its toll, however. Her stomach had grown queasy the last couple of days, and she’d felt out of sorts physically. Her head ached, and cramps gripped her stomach. She shouldn’t be surprised, she thought. It would soon pass, now that her worries were over.

Except that it did not. She hid it from everyone, clinging to the belief that it must pass away soon, but she did not feel well. This night, perhaps a week after she’d learned of Edward’s death, she ate a little at the evening meal and played cards with Mariah and Jamie, and Isabella. She excused herself only a little early, and went upstairs. She felt light-headed and as if she might be sick again, as she had been that morning. She was beginning to be a little frightened. She undressed herself and got into bed, and hoped she would sleep.

When she woke, the candles had burned down but were not out. She felt disoriented. A great wave of heat washed over her, and a great cramp - the worst she could recall. Then, it was gone. Several minutes after the heat, she began to shiver with cold. The bed felt strangely wet and sticky beneath her. She sat up, and looked about her. Even in the dim candlelight, she saw the red. She was lying in a great pool of blood. Her own blood. She sat for a moment, then screamed in pure terror.

“Mariah! Mariah! Help me!” She screamed it over and over, until her door opened and Mariah appeared.

“Esther, what’s wrong, dear girl?” She moved towards the bed - and stopped in horror as she saw the blood on the bed, the floor, and now on Esther herself.

“Dear God,” she gasped. She took in the scene, and based on experience, fairly quickly understood. 

“Esther, listen to me.”

Mariah’s voice reached her. Her heart pounding, Esther nodded. “Yes.”

“Don’t get up or move about. Try to lie down on the..the other side of the bed. I’m going to call for Kitty so we’ll have some clean bedclothes before we get these out of here. Try not to be afraid. I shall only be gone a moment.”

Numb, Esther did as she was asked. When Mariah returned with Kitty, who crossed herself on seeing all the blood, they set about stripping off the blood-soaked bedclothes and replacing them with clean linens. One particular sheet, Mariah quietly and deftly stuffed in a large decorative basket, out of sight. Layers of toweling were placed in the bed, and Esther’s bloody nightgown removed. At this point Mariah set Kitty to laying and lighting a fire, and bringing a basin of warm water and some clean cloths. When she had done so, she was dismissed back to her bed after a quiet word from her mistress.

As the room warmed from the fire, Mariah washed Esther. She gratefully noted there did not seem to be much fresh blood. The flow was lessening as she suspected it would if nature was indeed taking its course. Poor girl, she thought. She has no idea.

Finally, Esther was helped into a new gown, and Mariah made sure there were clean monthly rags in place if the bleeding should continue. Esther was in a daze, shivering. She was given a glass of port and coaxed to drink it straight down. When she seemed a little more comfortable, Mariah sat on the bed and took her hand.

“Esther, do you know what is wrong with you?”

She shook her head slowly. “Am I ill? Such a lot of blood.” She looked and sounded miserable and frightened, her eyes large in the dim light.

Mariah sighed.

“You have lost a child, my dear, that is all. I believe you will be well again. We must have a doctor in, of course, to be sure that’s all it is, and that there’s no further cause for concern.”

Esther stared at her with dawning horror.

“A child? Oh God - Edward’s child. No,” she whimpered. “The servants will know. If there is a doctor, he will know. Just as the wedding was about to be announced. Now..now - “ Esther began to sob in reaction to everything. Mariah put her arms about her and attempted to soothe her.

“Dear girl, all is not lost. I have told Kitty that you have had a very serious monthly difficulty, and I believe I have convinced her there’s nothing more to it. She’s not the sort of girl to think on things too deeply. And as long as you don’t become seriously ill in the next few hours, perhaps we can send for your doctor in Sanditon, who already knows of your misfortune. He would wish to keep your secret I think, especially as he hopes for Lady Denham’s patronage. As for the wedding, don’t despair. Speak to Jamie, he will be mad with fear for you when he learns of this. Love weathers many storms, my dear. Will you try to rest? I’ll make sure no one but me or Jamie disturbs you unless you ring for someone.”

Esther nodded and let herself be tucked in snugly before Mariah took the basket with the bloody sheet and left. She felt very, very tired, and weak. So tired that she no longer had the strength to move, or to keep her eyes open. She was frightened, afraid of the effect this would have on the wedding, if there could even be a wedding now, but she simply didn’t have the strength to confront things on her own. If ever there was a time when she needed support, this was it. Her life could slip away, and she would be unable to prevent it.

“Esther. My dear, Jamie is here. How do you feel?” Mariah’s voice, soft and loving, in her ear. She opened her eyes.

“So tired,” she murmured. She had no idea if she’d slept for two hours or twelve.

“You have lost a considerable amount of blood. You will be tired and weak for some days to come I’m afraid. We must give you beef broth and marrow soup, and beef to tempt your appetite. Let me see how you are doing.” Mariah turned back the bedclothes and checked the rags, then covered her back up again. “All is well, Esther. Almost no more bleeding. It’s all right,” she soothed.

“No. It’s not all right.” Her emotions even more fragile than her physical health, Esther felt tears coming again.

“There is only one person who can relieve you, I think. Shall I call him in?”

“Yes.” It must be confronted and got over, she thought. She was shocked when she saw him. Jamie looked as bad as she felt.

“My dearest, what a fright you’ve given us. I couldn’t go on until I’d seen you.” He bent over and cradled her face in his hands, kissing her forehead, then sat beside the bed, taking her hand. The fiery, feisty Miss Denham with the tongue of a termagant, who had led him a merry dance, now looked small and too pale in the big bed, ill and vulnerable. It hurt him to see her thus. He wanted to protect her from everyone and everything that threatened her, to keep her safe from harm and all unhappiness.

“You said that Edward could never hurt me again, that we were free of him. But he’s found a way, Jamie. He’s come back from the dead and he’s found a way to ruin everything. What will happen to us?”

“Nothing bad, my Esther. Nothing bad. He will not stop us. He has no power over us. I have spoken to Mariah, and she has told me some of your fears. No one will know about the child. I have written to Lady Denham with an account of what has happened, and she is sending Dr Fuchs to us in her carriage. There is no reason the banns should not be read, or the wedding announced, with only a slight delay until you have regained your strength. All will be well,” Jamie assured her, kissing her hands.

“But what if I can never have a child? What if I am..damaged, or broken, and I cannot give you a son? You must have a son, Jamie. It wouldn’t be fair to you, not knowing if I could ever bear your child,” she agonized.

“Losing a child happens, Esther. Mariah lost a baby, yet after that had Jemmy and Isabella. She lost another after Isabella, and then her husband died. But she has three healthy children, two nearly grown. There is every chance you will have more children. And if you do not, there are two fine young men I would be proud to leave the estate to - my nephews. _You_ are my treasure, not an heir. I would love children - I love my nephews and my niece - but my life would be empty without you. It’s you I need, more than anything.”

The emotion in his voice pierced Esther. It was real; she felt its depth. Her love for him was growing by the day, the hour.

“Will you stay with me, for awhile? Close to me. I need you to keep telling me it will be all right. I don’t care if its proper. I’ve never been proper, after all,” she smiled ruefully.

“And I love you for it,” Jamie got up from the chair and moved to the other side of the bed. He moved onto it, swinging his legs up, and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and put her arm around his waist, and relaxed in contentment. Mariah found them so an hour later. It was the best medicine for both of them she thought, better than any physician.

The following afternoon Dr Fuchs arrived. His examination of her was once again kind and delicate, though thorough.

“It is not unusual to lose a child so very early as this, especially a first child. I know it must have been a terrible shock, but all appears well with you now. I have seen nothing to indicate otherwise. You will recover, and most likely become with child again and be a mother to healthy children. We cannot know all of course, but I see no reason it will not be so. We must build up your strength, so you will enjoy your wedding.” He patted Esther on the knee. He had come to like the young woman, an outsider like himself, and he was pleased by her trust in him.

It did take time for Esther to feel herself again, but she was finding happiness at last, and ate what was required, rested when she felt the need, and enjoyed Jamie’s daily visits in the privacy of her room. Mariah didn’t have the heart to refuse either of them.

She craved the sight and scent of him, the sweet low tones with which he spoke to her, and the love and protection she felt when he was with her. In his embrace she was happier than she ever remembered being.

When she felt well enough to go out, the banns were read and a date was announced for the wedding. Lady Denham would come to stay the week before. They had both decided that everyone else they cared about, and who cared for them, were in London and so the wedding should be there. St George’s, Hanover Square at 10:00 a.m., a month hence.

A matron of honour and a best man were both simple and difficult. Esther had no thought of anyone but Mariah, who was delighted to be asked, and of course Jamie was pleased for her as well.

Best man, however, was rather touchy. Although he hadn’t seen much of him lately because Eliza Campion took all his time these days pressing for her own wedding, Jamie wanted Sidney Parker to stand up with him. This was no issue for Esther of course, but Eliza was a different matter. She would have to be there, and she would do her best to be as snide and withering as possible, aiming to suck the joy out of the occasion if she could. Mariah, having previously observed Lady Susan bring Eliza to heel on social occasions, advised her not to worry. Besides, she would be married before Eliza, as Sidney was dragging his feet and all London knew it. Wanting of course for Jamie to be as happy with the day as she would be, Esther gave the choice of Sidney her blessing.

The matter of a dress was undertaken by Mariah and Lady Susan, who knew the best linen drapers selling fabric and lace, and the chicest shops for shoes, stockings and undergarments, with Esther content to let them lead the way. Now that it was happening, all of the details had taken on a dreamlike quality.

Lady Susan felt that the fabric should stand out againt her hair and complexion. Esther began to feel like a mannequin as bolt after bolt of fabric was wrapped around her and held up to her face. One in particular had both ladies exclaiming, especially when they put it with a particular embroidery and began speaking of other embellishments. The most fashionable dressmaker in London was consulted, and she agreed that Lord Babington would be most delighted with the choice. Esther was concerned about the cost but knew better than to say so. Jamie had told Mariah that no expense was to be spared. She reassured Esther.

“My dear, when my brother sees you in this dress, you will know he approves because he will not want to take his eyes from you. You will be enchanting.” Of course she wanted to look to London society as if she was worthy to be Lady Babington, but Esther’s first thought was that she wanted to please Jamie in her choice. If Mariah thought this creation would please him, she would be content with it and trust their choice. She did think the fabric beautiful, she had just never imagined having a dress of such cost.

A trousseau was also begun, featuring the sheerest of muslin nightdresses, dressing gowns and chemises, delicately embroidered corsets and their coverings, and petticoats as well as gloves and many pairs of fine stockings.

There was one thing which could not be accomplished before the wedding, simply because there wasn’t time to travel there and back and because Mariah could not be spared from the arrangements to go with them as chaperone. Only after she had become Lady Babington would Esther see Clare Abbey, two days’ journey north of London. She had to make do with Jamie and Mariah describing it to her.

It was of considerable size, largely of weathered stone, with acres of green parkland and a large pond stocked with trout. Parts of the house dated from the 15th C, when it had actually been an abbey, but their grandfather had done extensive rebuilding in the 1750s. Brother and sister both spoke of it fondly, and Esther looked forward to seeing the house she would be mistress of, even if the thought was slightly daunting.

Time was slipping away and the wedding day was approaching. Lady Denham arrived, relieved to see Esther recovered and looking well. They had a private conversation after dinner in Lady Denham’s room.

“I’m happy to see you, Aunt,” Esther told her truthfully.

“And I you.” Lady Denham studied her a little, and Esther found she didn’t mind.

“You seem to be happy about more than just seeing me,” Lady Denham teased boldly.

“Yes, I am.” Esther smiled. “Edward did his best to make certain I would never be happy again but he failed, thanks to Jam - Lord Babington. He does make me happy, Aunt. Very happy.” She blushed, and smiled again. “If it’s better to be loved, how much better to find that you love in return, when you never expected to. I don’t deserve him, but I do love him.

“You fought so hard, I remember.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t want to see I’d been poisoned. The antidote has been living an ordinary life with people sharing extraordinary kindness. I understand much now that I never did before. How miserable I was, and how miserably I behaved,” Esther sighed.

“Well, it’s past now. Just be happy, child.”

“I will be, if he is with me.”

Lady Denham could scarcely believe the change in Esther. She was a very different young woman now. It made her regretful that she hadn’t seen what was happening with Edward sooner, or been kinder to her niece when she could have been.

The day arrived. There was so much to do, everyone had to be up with the sun. Esther was bathed, powdered and scented, and Matilda dressed her hair, after which Mariah went off to her own toilette and Esther attempted tea and toast. She was far too nervous to have an appetite, but was afraid she would faint from nerves on an empty stomach, so forced herself to eat.

Later when they had finished dressing her, she stared at herself in the mirror, wondering who the beautiful woman was who stared back at her. The dress was a taupe-gold satin, with gold-thread embroidered over the bodice, at the sleeves and with tendrils down the front, designed to look like glittering vines. Her shoes matched the gown, with further embroidery. There was a net of pearl drops fastened in her hair and a deep cream-colored veil would sit behind the pearls. Mariah had brought Jamie’s wedding gift to her - a small collar of amber diamonds and matching earrings that looked exquisite with her hair and dress. It came with a letter, which she opened with shaking hands after Mariah had gone.

_My darling Esther, it is of course custom that I shall not see you before we meet in the church, so I am left to write what I would say if I stood before you now. You know I love you, that I have loved you almost from our first meeting. I did not see then that you are also the bravest woman I know. You have suffered so much, yet you would not go down in defeat. It is one more reason I love you. That you profess to love me, I did not expect. You could have given me no greater gift, my love. I shall be counting the minutes until we are wed, and are parted no longer. Your Jamie_

Her tears, of course, could not be stayed; they would come. But they were tears of happiness and she did not really attempt to stop them. The day would not seem real, she thought with a wry smile, if there wasn’t something to cry over.

The carriage ride to the church passed in a blur. Esther’s heart alternately pounded and fluttered as her thoughts moved from joy to fear and back again. The carriage stopped outside the church and Mariah helped her alight, making certain her dress was as it should be. She was aware of people standing around the entrance but they were as phantoms. The two of them walked up the aisle, Esther wanting only to see Jamie. She scarcely registered Sidney Parker. Mariah let go her arm, and she and Jamie looked at each other.

His sweet mouth was open slightly, eyes glistening as he stared at her. For her part, Esther was both charmed and mesmerized by her bridegroom with the kind eyes and kinder heart, clad in his elegant finery. He was very handsome indeed, she acknowledged, and a fine figure of a man, for all that it was his heart and mind she loved, not his looks.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered.

“So are you, my lord Babington,” she whispered back. Proper or not, she reached to grasp his hand. He smiled, and squeezed hers gently.

The ceremony was astonishingly brief, considering all that it had taken them to arrive at this estate. Vows were exchanged, and then rings. Esther was torn between wanting to whisper her vows intimately or to shout them aloud, while Jamie managed somewhere in the middle. If his voice was not so intimate, his eyes were; they made Esther blush. Her ring, handed to Jamie by Parker, was an old Babington family diamond. His was a plain gold band. Many men wore no wedding ring, but Jamie had said he wanted the world to know he was taken, and happily so.

When they were pronounced man and wife, a widely grinning Jamie determined to kiss his bride then and there, custom be damned. Esther delighted in the strength of his embrace. If her return of his kiss was somewhat less exhilarated, he understood that did not mean she was less pleased, but only shy of their newly-married state.

They moved into the anteroom with Sidney and Mariah and signed the register, which was duly witnessed. Before they exited, Sidney drew Esther aside.

“Congratulations, Lady Babington. I hope you and Lord Babington will be very happy. Forgive me, but I might not have had a chance otherwise to express myself to you both privately.” Esther knew he meant Eliza, and she was touched by his wish to make his feelings sincerely known. In his current circumstances it could not have been easy for him to perform his wedding duties for Jamie today. He clapped Jamie on the shoulder, bowed, and left them.

Their friends awaited them on the steps of the church to applaud and cheer, and to throw rose petals. It made Esther feel part of a family that was larger than any she had known before.

The carriage took them home for a grand wedding breakfast. They had at first thought to have given a ball in the evening, but Jamie frankly wanted his bride to himself as soon as possible, so the breakfast was decided upon. No expense had been spared, and Lady Susan made sure Esther knew that Eliza Campion was green with jealousy. She was still doing what she could to bring Sidney back to Sanditon and Miss Heywood, and she was not ready to give that up just yet.

Esther was tired, but it was a happy feeling. She was surrounded by those who loved her, and there would be only one such day in her life. She was determined to enjoy it. By mid afternoon however, Jamie was sending signals that the celebration should be perhaps drawing to a close, and knowing looks were exchanged among many of the guests. Esther threw her bouquet so that it was caught by Isabella, who was delighted.

The wedding night would be spent in the Babington townhouse and they would begin the journey to Clare Abbey the following day. Esther had been to the mansion a few times, and at least once since the official announcement of their impending marriage. This evening, however, she would enter as its mistress.

It had grown a little chilly, and both were anxious to be in out of the cold and to relax away from curious eyes. Jamie helped her out of the carriage, and resisted the temptation to scoop her up in his arms and take her over the threshold, as the servants would be waiting to be introduced to the new lady of the house. Esther knew she would have to ask their names again in the morning. It was starting to get just a bit too much when she was taken upstairs by Jamie and the housekeeper.

Her bedroom, which she would soon have the pleasure of redecorating, was next to Jamie’s. Her clothes had been brought the day before by Mariah, and the maids had put everything away. Now she was helped out of her dress, her jewels put into safekeeping, and she could be more comfortable in a dressing gown over one of her exquisitely embroidered, nearly sheer nightdresses. A maid carefully took down her hair and brushed it. She felt she could breathe again. There was a tap on the door and at her summons, two maids brought in a tray of light refreshments and champagne, which they placed on a table and left after being told they wouldn’t be needed further that evening. Esther saw one of them wink at the other, and flushed.

This was her wedding night. However much she loved her husband, the memory of Edward’s attack was never quite gone from her mind. Despite Lady Denham’s assurance that relations between married couples were not like that, she was still uneasy about the night to come. She simply had no experience of the reality.

“My darling?” Jamie’s voice, softly inquisitive, followed by a light knock on the connecting door between their rooms.

“Come in.”

Her husband too had shed his formal clothes and was robed only in a banyan and nightshirt. He had waited so long for this night, yet he understood what he saw behind her wide eyes. She was his now. She had chosen to be his, wanted to be. Accepting her fears would cost him little but a certain amount of frustration and a little time. It was an exchange which could certainly be made for a lifetime of happiness.

He came to her and folded her gently in his arms, kissing her face, stroking her hair. When she held to him, content to be where she was, her face buried against his chest, he sighed deeply.

“Esther. Ess,” he groaned, “I need you so, and I dared not tell you. I have wanted you for my wife so very much. Every woman I’ve ever met pales in comparison to you. To have not a meek and subservient wife or an unloving wife, but a partner in life to help me bear it when things do not go well. To know that my wife cares for me. It is you who have done me a kindness, not the other way round. Never fear there is something you cannot tell me, or ask me. We shall not keep secrets from each other, it is never worth the cost. Now you know my heart.”

She wound her arms about his neck, leaning into him for a long moment, simply happy. She would try to share herself as bravely as he had done.

“You know I didn’t want to love you,” she sighed, sitting on the chaise longue, pulling him to sit with her.

“You know what my life was like with Edward. You know every horrid detail of all my shame, and still you love me. I know nothing of good men, or how to be a wife in a loving husband’s bed. I thought never to feel desire for anyone again. But you have given me to understand love, and as my love has grown..what I feel is new to me. It’s not like it was with Edward. I want to know and understand every part of you, and to make you happy in all things. But I’m only an ignorant new wife and I fear I’ll disappoint you in my ignorance,” Esther confessed awkwardly. “We have scarcely touched one another, nor kissed, because it wasn’t proper. Your touch and your arms are not yet familiar.”

His heart went out to her. He felt great tenderness at her candor.

“My sweet, I don’t want a courtesan in my bed. That ceased to satisfy me long ago. We will try to please each other, and surely both of us will learn with time. There is time, Ess, and we will both be patient - hm?” Jamie kissed her ear, and the hand he’d been holding.

She felt relief at his words.

“It makes me happy when you hold me in your arms and we talk. I should like to do it every day.”

Jamie laughed. “I think that is one thing you could not stop, my love,” he assured her. “Do you not want some champagne? I’m surprised you haven’t yet asked,” he teased.

“You are more important than champagne. I had to say it. But now that I have - yes, do open the champagne,” she agreed eagerly.

They sat comfortably then, talking and drinking and nibbling on the food, and discussing the wedding and the breakfast, and the coming journey to Clare Abbey. If Esther’s worries were not entirely gone, they were much abated.

Close upon midnight, Jamie could see that she had become quite sleepy and suggested they go to bed. It had of course been turned down and made ready for them hours ago. He put out all the candles save one, which he put beside the bed when he got in.

“Come to bed, Ess.”

She slipped in beside him, and he blew out the candle. He drew her gently to him, and spooned himself around her, holding her in his arms. His breath was warm against her neck. Soothing. The heat of his body was reassuring, and the solidness of him, protecting and loving her. As the minutes passed she relaxed still more into his embrace, wondering when he would initiate their union, but he did nothing more than hold her tight.

“Jamie? Aren’t you going to - ?”

“As you have very wisely said, we do not know all of each other yet. There is no need to rush, or for me to take you, to have you tonight. Besides, I don’t want to do those things. They sound as if you don’t matter, when you matter very much indeed. I want to bring you to pleasure _with_ me, not just take my pleasure of you. We will learn each other, and you will tell me when. Good night, my Esther. Pleasant dreams,” he murmured in her ear, softly kissing the back of her neck and her bare shoulder.

Feeling more treasured than she deserved to be, Esther rolled to face him and snugged herself under his chin, draping an arm over him to hold on. She heard it again - his little happy sound, and smiled to herself. It pleased her very much that she could cause him to feel so. In his arms, she slept the most restful sleep she had in months.

When Esther woke, their positions were somewhat reversed. Jamie lay with his head on her stomach. The warmth and weight of him charmed her. She was again reminded that he needed her _._ Gently, she stroked his hair. She felt him sigh, and his hand moved to rest on her hip, warm and moist. She kept on with what she was doing, happy that she was pleasing him.

“Good morning, Lady Babington.” His voice rumbled against her belly, and she giggled.

“Good morning, Lord Babington.”

He slowly raised himself, and scooted up until he rested on one elbow, smiling, caressing her face. His thumb stroked over her bottom lip before he kissed her. He pressed his lips to hers lightly at first, then with increasing pressure. Esther gasped, her mouth opening to his instinctively, eagerly.

There was an echo of the way Edward had kissed her - passionate and sensual, compelling. But from Edward there had been no care, no regard. No love. She hadn’t known it then because she’d had nothing to compare it to. Jamie’s kisses kindled something in her that Edward’s had not. She felt his passion, his desire for her, plainly. Yet it was tempered with a sweetness that both melted her and fired her response. Perhaps making love wasn’t as complicated as she’d imagined. You acted on your feelings and the messages your body sent you. She gave herself over to him, returning his kisses and letting herself enjoy them without guilt. His hands roamed her nightgown-clad body, and she shyly reciprocated. His strength would never be used to hurt or abuse her, only to love and protect. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the spice of him and pressing soft kisses where his nightshirt was open at the neck. This sort of intimacy was both exciting and reassuring. Esther thought she would never have enough of it.

“Ess,” Jamie murmured in her ear, “we should let them bring us a breakfast tray.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I am hungry. But then, must we get up and dress? Can’t we stay here, just the two of us, like this?”

Babington chuckled, kissing her nose.

“Have you forgotten we are supposed to start off for Clare today?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“But if Lady Babington wishes, it can certainly be delayed a day.” His smile managed, Esther thought, to be both seductive and little boy proud.

“Lady Babington wishes.”

There were a few more kisses before Jamie reached for the bell pull. The breakfast tray arrived in due course and they feasted on cold lobster and champagne. After the tray was taken away he locked the door.

“Now, where were we?”

And so the rest of the day passed. They began to learn each other’s sighs and sounds of pleasure, and which touches were especially well received. As Esther’s fears fell away, so did some of Jamie’s hesitation to express himself physically. They were coming ever closer in body and spirit.

Jamie left her for an hour or so, having business with the housekeeper and sending word on to Clare that they would be delayed a day. She did not dress, but took the opportunity to write to Mariah. The bedroom had become cozy, and central to their growing intimacy, and Esther would miss it when they traveled on to Clare Abbey.

Dinner was a bit more lavish, no champagne this time but a fine aged port, lamb chops and a few simple delicacies. By the time they were ready to eat the sweets, they fed each other, laughing, interspersed with kisses.

Later, there came the desired talk while being held in Jamie’s arms, during which she learned that he was equally happy to lie in her embrace.

“My darling, we must be up very early tomorrow to be on our way to the Abbey. It might be best if we had a good night’s rest. I wish it might be otherwise of course, but-“

“Understood, husband,” Esther sighed. “You will likely need to pry me from the bed. I do not happily rise early.”

“Not even to see your new home?” Jamie teased.

“If I could spend the extra hour here with you, I would rather,” she murmured against his chest, “than even the Royal Pavilion at Brighton.”

True to her warning, Esther was a bit difficult to rouse from her husband and the warm bed. Once he had left for his own room, a wash and his valet’s help in dressing however, and the maid came in to dress her, she resigned herself. She would, when their honeymoon was over and they were back in London, choose a lady’s maid - either someone already here, someone from Clare, or someone new on the recommendation of Mariah or one of their friends. She was proud to think of them now as her friends as well, rather than only Mariah’s.

This trip was going to be longer and less comfortable than the journey from Sanditon, but Esther resigned herself. She was no longer nervous about anything, and was determined to enjoy the journey with her husband.

Her determination would be tested. It was cold and windy, and as they went further out of London it began to rain and the roads became progressively more mired with slippery, clinging mud.

They were forced to tie down the window flaps against the rain, cold, and mud splashing into the carriage, and ended up huddled under blankets to keep warm. This lasted through their lunch stop, and then continued at the inn where they would spend the night. It was a relief to reach shelter and a warm fire.

As romantic and intimate as it was, both were weary of the many hours of jostling in the cold, and rather sore. By mutual consent they simply curled up in bed after the servant had taken their dinner remains away and indulged in nothing more than snuggling before they fell into exhausted sleep.

The next morning dawned dreary, but without rain. It might start in again of course but it was a relief to at least be able to start out dry, and without the previous day’s wind the cold was more bearable. Jamie helped to lace her corset, dropping kisses along her bare shoulders as he did so. It was a husbandly duty he found he enjoyed. Esther chose one of her plainer gowns in Prussian blue. She didn’t want to appear frivolous or incapable to the staff at Clare Abbey. First impressions were important.

Fortified by warm mulled cider and a light breakfast, they set off. With reasonable weather they would reach the house by midafternoon. Esther gave in to her curiosity and concerns, and asked him about the Abbey.

“It’s been in the family for over a hundred years. Not as large as some estates, but the Babingtons have never gone in much for show. It suits us well enough. We all grew up there, my sisters and I, and Nicholas. We were happy, in my memory.” Jamie smiled, but there was a trace of sadness in the smile.

Esther knew of his other sister Augusta, who had been traveling on the Continent with her husband throughout much of the time Esther had been in London. Jamie was fond of her, but they were not particularly close. She and her husband had attended the wedding breakfast. She was polite and welcoming, but she had not Mariah’s natural warmth.

“Tell me about Nicholas,” Esther asked softly, moving to sit beside her husband, putting her arm about his waist. All she knew of Nicholas was that he was the brother who had died.

A shadow passed over Jamie’s face, but then he smiled slightly and nodded.

“We tend to keep Nick to ourselves, Mariah and I, but it’s right we should share him with you as we return home. Mariah was the firstborn.There was a boy before me, who died at an age of four days. His name was Robert, after my father. Then I was born, and Nicholas two years after. Augusta was the last of us, born when Nick was five.

“Nick was my best friend, and the best brother anyone could want. He was more serious than I. If I saw only the best in people, Nick was my caution. He didn’t only see the worst in them, but he did see it when it was there, and reminded me to be careful. I think he would have understood you,” Jamie smiled, squeezing Esther’s hand. “He would have seen you, beneath all your pain, and loved you as I do.

“When we were both at Cambridge, typhoid fever swept our college. I survived, but Nick did not. I was ill and did not even see him buried. He lies in the churchyard near Clare, with the rest of my family. We were greatly affected by his death. God chose the best of us to call home, and I resented Him for years because of it,”Jamie sighed, resting his head on Esther’s shoulder. “I was in pain for a long time. But then, there was you. There is you. I thank Him for you every day.”

“I’m glad you’ve told me about him.” Esther hugged him to her gently. She was a bit unsure whether, as Jamie had said, Nicholas would have liked her. Few ever had, except Jamie. If anyone understood her, it was him.

A few miles passed in comfortable silence before she spoke again.

“Do we have neighbors? Are there people to see and have to tea and dinner? How much time will we spend at the Abbey? It’s only - my friends are in London. I won’t know anyone, and when you are away - “ she faltered, ashamed to admit loneliness. Jamie took her hand and kissed the palm softly, once, twice - three times.

“Yes, there are two or three other estates fairly nearby who will be glad to see us. My steward has already written of an invitation or two to dinner, which I have accepted on your behalf. I hope you don’t mind, but the timing was such that - “

“No, I don’t mind.” His tenderness, she realized, rendered her acquiescent. It also made her suddenly long for the privacy of a bedroom. She smiled a private little smile to herself, blushing a bit.

“There will be shooting parties. Perhaps even a ball if you like, for local friends. Mariah and the children come for much of the time, don’t worry. The place is actually quite merry from Christmas through Twelfth Night. We will probably leave town in early October, and return in mid January. But that needn’t mean we must spend all our time at Clare. We might visit the Continent. I’d like to show you Italy, and Greece.”

“Yes, please,” she agreed. “That would be wonderful.” Esther could think of nothing she would enjoy more than seeing those countries, rich in art and history, with her husband.

The carriage stopped, and Jamie moved to open the door for her.

“This is a fine view. I thought you would like to see.” He led her to a break in the trees, and pointed.

Clare Abbey had a lovely prospect. Not an overly grand house, but with neat and well-cared for parkland and good-sized gardens. Esther’s eye was drawn to the part she knew must be very old. She would enjoy exploring it. She had always valued old things. The work Jamie’s grandfather had commissioned integrated well with the older aspect. It was an inviting property.

When they arrived, all of the servants lined the stone stairs to greet them. As she briefly acknowledged each one, Esther was aware that unlike the generally younger, more recently acquired servants in London, the Clare servants were older, and scrutinized her. Some of these people had been here since Jamie was a boy, she realized, and cared whether Lord Babington’s new wife would make him happy - or not.

There was a tour of sorts of the main reception rooms, the library and music room, and then they were taken to their adjoining bedrooms. Although it was not customary, Jamie already thought of wherever Esther slept as ‘their’ bedroom, since he had no plans to sleep anywhere else.

They rested and talked for awhile, then Jamie left to speak to the housekeeper and steward about a few things. When he returned he found Esther asleep, and he did not disturb her for some time. Eventually one of the maids knocked, ready to help her dress for dinner. He woke her then, and left to attend to his own toilette.

Dinner was not especially elaborate on their first night in residence, but the food was well prepared and ably served. There was a good fire burning in the dining room and the room seemed welcoming. Looking about her, Esther felt at home already, more than she had in the London house, which still needed the touch of a woman. This house’s decoration showed warmth and contentment. She was sorry she would never know Jamie’s mother and father, who had created the congenial atmosphere.

After dinner they sat in the card room and warmed themselves before the fire, glasses of port further mellowing their spirits. Eventually, he asked her -

“Would you like to retire, Ess? It’s been a long day. Go up and send for the maid, and I’ll follow within the hour. There are still one or two things I must attend to tonight.”

“I confess I would like to be more comfortable, and live away from curious eyes for awhile.” Smiling, she rose and kissed him. “Don’t be too long.”

When Jamie entered the room, it was almost in darkness with only one candle lit. Esther was in bed, waiting for him.

“Husband, I would be your wife tonight.”

He realized she was naked under the bedclothes. His heart began to pound.

“Ess,” he whispered. He attempted to make quick work of undressing but was somewhat clumsy in his haste, especially in getting his boots off, and Esther was half giggling at him by the time he got into bed, which broke the slight tension there had been. He picked up the candle and threw back the bedclothes, eager for the sight of her. His throat constricted. Perfect breasts, neither large nor small, tempted his hands. His eyes went to the cleft between her thighs and he smiled gleefully.

“Red hair and freckles everywhere,” he chuckled. “You are so beautiful, my Esther,” he sighed. He would have put the candle out, but Esther stopped him.

“Turnabout, Lord Babington,” she asked softly. Blushing, he exposed himself to her. The muscular chest, thickly covered with dark auburn curls, attracted her, enticed her. His manhood she stared at silently, her expression unreadable but her eyes large. His organ stiffened at her gaze.

“You are the cause, my love,” he told her. “It is my desire for you.”

It didn’t seem so strange; her own body felt different. Energized. Provoked. _Wanting,_ she wasn’t quite sure what, but it surprised her a little. This was more than the feelings she had when Jamie held her, as pleasant as those feelings were.

He took her head in his hands and began to kiss her quite thoroughly as he had on the other nights. Yet there was a difference, and Esther felt it. It was, as Jamie had said, desire. His, and her own. The wanting again. Wanting his body, unexpectedly, even his maleness. She reached out to touch him there, and he groaned and withdrew slightly from her.

“My darling, you mustn’t. If you continue I cannot control myself, and I would never want to hurt you. This time, it must be for you more than for me. After this, other times, do what you will and you will make me a happy man,” he told her. “Can you understand?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Her own urges were overwhelming her, why should it not be the same for her husband?

His hands, and his mouth, were everywhere. Her breasts, her belly, the curve of her hip, and her bottom. Between her legs. When he touched her there, far from recoiling as she’d been afraid she might do, she wanted to beg him to do it again. She didn’t realize that her body spoke for her, and that Jamie knew what it said.

Sounds issued from her instinctively, primally. She heard them as if from someone else, and they roused her further. When his mouth and his tongue continued doing what his fingers had begun, Esther didn’t know whether she was in heaven or would burn in the fires of hell for the way he made her feel. The feelings grew sharper, more intense, until she felt as if she were on the edge of some sort of precipice and Jamie was coaxing her to jump by teasing and tempting her. He bent to her once more, and his tongue was irresistible. She jumped then, and her breath was taken from her at the joy of it. She cried out as her body spasmed in delight, the feeling echoing through her for several moments. As her breathing slowed, Jamie murmured “bend your knees, my love” in a voice that brought the feeling close again just hearing him. She complied, and he moved into her.

There was no pain, no feeling of violation. She was eager to have him there. He started to move in her, and his movement stirred that place in her again. She thrust herself up eagerly to meet him, and they moved so until she felt a tenseness in his movements, a quickening. He made the soft helpless sounds she’d heard before, until he groaned and released himself in her.

He lay over her now, gasping for breath, his head on her shoulder. His face was not visible to her, but Esther suspected he wept a little. She felt like weeping herself. She stroked his hair.

“Are you all right, wife?” he got out after a few minutes.

“I am,” she assured him, “as right as you are, husband.” When he would have moved she held him to her, cradling him against her breast. He gave a great sigh and settled himself.

As she listened to his breathing become slow and regular, Esther experienced contentment. She need no longer yearn for some unidentified passion, some half-formed fantasy of perhaps one day. Her life slept in her arms.

Lord Babington woke to a twitching of his nose. He slowly became aware that Esther was tickling him with her hair.

“Do you have some purpose there, my angel?”

“I need you awake, husband, so that we might repeat our actions of last night before we must dress and spend the entire day unable to do so.”

He raised his head to look at her. There was once again a twinkle in her eye, a sauciness that he realized he’d missed, now that it was back again. This was Miss Denham, whom he’d fallen so hopelessly in love with. Her honesty, her straightforwardness, and her impudence. She’d lost it for a time. Who could blame her - she’d been through hell. She no longer had any fears of him in their marriage. If he had had anything to do with this restoration, nothing would please him more.

Her hand, soft and warm, advanced upon him beneath the covers.

“I will learn to please you this way,” she promised resolutely. He bit his lip to stifle a groan, but laughed at the same time.

“Well and good my heart, but I will be the person to instruct you, not Miss Brereton. Oh, don’t look so shocked - I know you, after all,” he shook his head. “You please me very well already,” he assured, mouthing her breast.

“First lesson?” Esther gasped softly as his mouth slid wetly down her torso to her hungry cleft.

He covered her hand with his own and began slowly pleasuring himself. “First lesson. I suspect you will be a quick study. You are a clever woman after all. However..as long as it takes…” He grinned at her. Breakfast was somewhat delayed.

In the following days they had long early nights of love when there were no invitations and they were giving no dinners. Esther was introduced to the neighborhood, gaining a reputation as a handsome, well-dressed young woman of wit and education who took an interest in her husband’s affairs. She rode well and shot well. She seemed to be accepted and approved of, and with that both she and Jamie were content.

They traveled back and forth between Clare and London, and visited Sanditon once as well. When mid December arrived, so did Mariah and Isabella, and Jamie’s nephews Sebastian and Jeremy down from school and university. Christmas week saw the arrival of Lady Denham. It was, as Jamie had promised, a merry time indeed. There were parties both day and night, dinners and balls, shooting and skating. Esther had firmly taken over the domestic reins, but was mindful that the house, the servants and the Babingtons all long pre-dated her. She did her best to be firm without being rigid, and hoped to be more understanding than demanding.

All was going well, except that there was no child on the way. Esther tried not to worry, but a part of her couldn’t help it. She had never thought of herself especially wanting children or being a doting mother, but she very much wanted Jamie’s child and still worried that she might not be able to become pregnant again or carry a child to a healthy birth. She said nothing to Jamie, but he felt something might be worrying her and guessed it could be that. There wasn’t any more he could say than what he’d already told her. His first worry would always be for her when it came to being with child.

They were back in town in February. She didn’t know whether it was the cold, or the difficulty negotiating busy London streets in a carriage, but she found herself more tired than she had been at Clare, and feeling rather more stressed and out of sorts. Perhaps she was finally feeling truly at home at Clare, and London made her feel more like a stranger now. She confided in Mariah, who studied her closely but said nothing. This was something Esther had to discover on her own; it would make the joy that much sweeter.

She did soon notice the absence of her monthly, and that her breasts were growing tender. She was afraid to hope. When she nearly fainted one afternoon, Dr Fuchs was sent for by Mariah, who confided her to suspicion to him in a letter. By the time he arrived at the house the following day, Mariah had confessed to Esther that she’d sent for him. Esther was both relieved and apprehensive.

As usual, he put her at ease after his examination of her. There was nothing very serious to worry about. It was too soon to tell much of anything but it seemed a normal pregnancy so far. The only precaution he would advise was that since she had lost a baby very early, she should keep to her bed and avoid worry and upset as much as possible. An abundance of caution would not go amiss. He would travel to see her once every month, and when her time was very close he would come to stay. This she had not asked, but he offered. That this young woman, with all she’d been through, should lose another child, one that she wanted so very much, was unthinkable.

When Jamie returned home late that afternoon he could see by Esther’s face that something had happened, but he couldn’t be certain what it might be. She seemed restless and impatient, yet somehow fragile too. It was an odd constellation of emotions she was projecting, and it disturbed him, allowing a bit of fear to enter his head. He tried to dress for dinner but could not. He gave up and knocked softly on her door.

She sat before her mirror, but she hadn’t been doing anything to prepare. She didn’t look sad, but appeared pensive.

“Ess, for God’s sake tell me what’s wrong! I cannot bear it another moment,” he pleaded. She smiled, and rose to sit on the sofa. He quickly joined her.

“I was going to try to wait until after dinner, but I would have found it difficult, I admit. Lord Babington, you are to become a father.” Esther’s voice was soft, but brimming with happiness. He stared at her for a moment open-mouthed, then pulled her to him, albeit rather as if she were made of glass, and cradled her in his arms.

“Truly?” he whispered. She felt him shaking slightly.

“Truly, husband,” she laughed, a small, happy sound.

“My angel. I’m so happy I might burst with it. Are you well? You must take extra care, Ess, and I’ll be certain you do. You will not lift a finger - understood?” He kissed her hair, her forehead, her nose.

“I shall be very bored indeed, and probably cross, sitting here for months, but I’ll do it if it means our child will be safe,” Esther agreed with a smile, nudging his nose.

“And we won’t take the chance of - “

“Oh yes we will, James Babington. We will be careful, but not _that_ careful. Dr Fuchs agreed. And we have other ways of pleasing each other, don’t we? I will not spend nine months in this bed alone, lacking the pleasure of you. Understood?”

Jamie blushed a little, but also looked a bit relieved. He shook his head, chuckling.

“Understood, my little firedrake.”

Only Mariah and Jamie knew the real reason for Esther being housebound. Everyone else was told that Dr Fuchs had determined her womb was weak, and that she must not travel or stand very much lest the child drop prematurely.

She was bored, as she predicted, but Mariah came nearly every day and brought Isabella, now only scant years shy of being a young woman. Esther enjoyed her company so much that she would sometimes spend an entire afternoon with the daughter when the mother could not stay. Lady Susan and her other friends visited of course.

As her confinement progressed she became more uncomfortable, and rather cranky at times with her husband, as women with child were known to be. She was sorry when she abused him, but he took perhaps less notice of her bad temper than other men might do of their wives, because it reminded him of Miss Denham of old. He had loved her through that, and he loved and worried about her now. More often than not he could tease her out of a temper in any case.

It was most difficult in her last month. Nearly everyone else in town had left for their country estates. The Babingtons would not be going for some months, likely not until spring. Esther could not travel so close to the baby’s birth, and after the child was born, mother and baby still could not travel far in the dead of winter. Mariah, Isabella, Sebastian and Jemmy would spend Christmas with them, and in January the boys would travel to Clare, deputized by Jamie to look after estate business.

Esther was frightened thinking of the birth. Mariah did her best to reassure her, but in truth it had only a moderate effect. She wasn’t afraid for herself, but for the child. Jamie, on the other hand, was terrified he might lose Esther. When it was time for Dr Fuchs to come to London, Jamie left him in no doubt whose life was to be saved at all costs, if the birth was not going well.

On the first of November, her labor began. She had been sitting with Mariah and Jamie, and her waters broke. She was undressed and put into bed, and Dr Fuchs took charge, requesting the things he would need. Jamie didn’t want to leave her. He was afraid he might never see her alive again. It was a very real fear, and Fuchs sympathized.

“My sweet husband.” Esther smiled at him, reaching for his hand. “We must both trust in God, and dear Dr Fuchs. Go downstairs and get drunk, please. It will be many hours yet, I’m told, before our child is born. Try not to worry, as I’ll try not to. Give me a kiss, and then go,” she urged. Jamie shook his head, groaning a protest, but he leaned over to kiss her once more, then let go her hand reluctantly and left the room.

The labor lasted many more hours than anyone had anticipated, even Dr Fuchs. The child was progressing apace towards being born, and then the progression slowed noticeably. The doctor was not greatly alarmed, but neither was he pleased. The delay would tire Lady Babington and put her in more discomfort, and it would drive Lord Babington to a distraction even Lady Knox could not ease him from.

When things had gotten to a point where he was concerned for Esther’s strength, Fuchs decided to give her a dram of the tincture that was meant to encourage contractions. After that he could only wait, and it was nerve-wracking.

Finally, twenty minutes after administering the medicine, the contractions began again. This time, they progressed as usual, and at 8:43 in the evening of November 3rd, the baby was born.

The doctor observed with great satisfaction that it was a strong, healthy boy child. Esther was so exhausted she could hardly keep her eyes open, but she insisted on having Jamie come to her before she would sleep.

He came into the room hesitantly, reverently, and approached the bed. He was distressed at how tired Esther looked, but she was smiling at him. A tiny bundle lay wrapped in the crook of her arm. He bent to kiss her forehead, and to look at the child. He pushed the blanket aside a little, and saw a fine fuzz of red. He made a choking sound, and sat quickly in the chair beside the bed.

“Husband, we have a son,” Esther whispered.

His eyes squinted and filled with tears. His face crumpled, and he hid it in Esther’s hair, stroking her face.

“A son,” he repeated in wonder. “And he has his mother’s hair. Could it be any more perfect, Ess?” he choked, stroking his son’s cheek with the feather touch of a finger, entranced by the little face.

“No, husband, it could not,” she agreed, before she fell asleep.

The following morning, Jamie could not be kept from his wife and son. He cared nothing for custom, or what other men did. He would perhaps gift cigars or treat his friends to drink in toast to his son and heir in a few days’ time, but just now his celebrations lay in front of him, alternately sleeping or taking nourishment, the both of them. As awe-inspiring as his son was, no one but he and Mariah would ever understand how miraculous his precious wife was to have given him this child despite her sorrow and fears.

“What shall we name him?” he mused softly to himself.

“I thought - Nicholas,” came a sleepy voice from the bed. “Nicholas James, for a start.”

“Oh, Ess. Yes, please.” His eyes filled with emotion, as they so often did since Esther had come into his life. “It would mean a great deal to us, Mariah and me.”

“I know,” she smiled. “We can decide another name before his christening. What do you think of Frederick?”

“Frederick? Where did that come from? It’s a good, solid name I suppose.”

“It’s the doctor’s name. I thought - I don’t suppose either Nicholas or I would be here, and well, without him.”

“Yes. Of course,” he agreed once he understood.

The christening took place two weeks later, and Nicholas James Frederick Babington was presented to the world. After this event, and his assurance of the continued good health of his wife and son, Jamie was prepared to loosen his grip a little and move slowly back into most of his customary pursuits and behaviours.

Esther was shocked at how nearly all-consuming her feelings were for her son. She had not expected it, and it had taken her very much by surprise, this strong maternal bond. It could consume her if she allowed it, but she did not quite allow it. Nicky’s father would always be the most important man in her life.

Gradually, life returned to if not exactly what it was before Nicky was born, then close to it. Lady Denham traveled to see her new nephew and present him with a handsome christening gift. Esther began to go out to visit again, and there were card parties and luncheons, and the first after-Nicholas ball. They even discussed the return to Clare, a month or two hence. The one constant was that both she and Jamie tried very hard to be home most evenings to be with their son, so that he should not spend his infancy knowing only nursemaids and nannies, but his parents as well. Jamie sat transfixed when Esther sang to Nicky in that exquisite voice she still seemed unaware she possessed.

One evening when Nicky was two months old and he lay content in his cot after having been fed, Jamie excused himself, returning in a few moments with a small casket which he gave to Esther.

“It is only a poor token of my feelings for you, my darling girl,” he told her.

Esther gasped softly when she examined the object. It was clearly very old indeed - Egyptian, she believed. Her finger carefully traced the strange signs and beautiful décorations. It was so wonderful in itself that it took her some time to look at all its delights. When she opened the box, she gasped again.

Sitting inside, wrapped in a small papyrus scroll, was a little fish set in gold and made of tiny squares of ruby to imitate scales.

“Oh Jamie, it’s beautiful! And how clever. I like it very much indeed,” she assured him with a serious kiss.

“The necklace is a but a trifle, honestly. It..it is to accompany this. Because I cannot say well what’s in my heart,” he murmured. “See, the poem has been translated from ancient Egyptian, they say. The translation is very old itself, from the time of the Greeks in Egypt. It was then translated into English,” he explained.

Very carefully, Esther unrolled the papyrus, marveling at the delicateness of the red and black markings. She then found the translation. Her eyes filled as she read.

_To hear your voice is pomegranate wine to me:_

_I draw life from hearing it._

_Could I see you with every glance_

_It would be better for me than to eat or drink._

_I’ll go down to the water with you,_

_And come out to you carrying a red fish,_

_Which is just right in my fingers._

_Be unwearied, unceasing, alive,_

_You and your own true love;_

_Let not your heart be troubled_

_During your sojourn on Earth,_

_But seize the day as it passes._

Speechless, Esther could do nothing but crush him to her for a long moment.

“It means more to me than I can express, my sweet husband. You have always spoken well what’s in your heart, while I cannot. It is a precious gift and I will treasure it always. Oh, how will you know what I feel?” she worried softly, caressing him. “I must find a way to tell you.”

“Only hold me like this my Esther, and I’ll know,” he assured her.

That wasn’t good enough, or the end of the matter of course.

She set about scouring the town for a worthy partner to her gift. She was not poetry nor ever could be, it wasn’t in her, but she loved the way it expressed what others could not; what she could not. Yet she never found poetry that expressed her exact feelings. She continued to search for she knew not what, exactly, until unknowing, she wandered into the very curio shop where Jamie had found her poem.

It didn’t take long, from what Esther revealed about what she was looking for, before the proprietor realized she was the very person his previous papyrus sale had been about. Of course, he had the perfect response for her. Lord Babington had seen it when he made his purchase, and his eyes had lingered over it. Serendipity, the shop owner reflected, could be a wonderful thing.

Esther had the ancient text placed opposite the translation in a small velvet-lined double frame. She could buy Jamie no jewels nor would he wear them if she could. She had her maid cut off a length of her hair. This she had carefully braided into an intricate knot, and placed in a small glass case to serve as the end of a watch fob.

She was more nervous to give him her gift than when she had told him she was expecting Nicholas. She had wrapped the items together, and now fidgeted as he unwrapped the small package.

She saw his startled realization of what he held in the frame. He read, she thought, almost as if he knew the words.

_Our hearts are in balance._

_In your arms, I do for you_

_What your heart desires._

_My longing for you is all the paint I need,_

_My eyes glow from seeing you._

_Draw me close and let me gaze at you_

_Prince of my heart._

_Oh the joy of this hour -_

_It flows through me forever,_

_Beginning when I slept with you._

_In sorrow or joy_

_You have lifted me up._

_Never leave me!_

He slipped to the floor at her feet, laying his head in her lap, safeguarding his expression.

“I could never be sure. I hoped, I wished. I wanted to believe. But I have never been _sure._ Thank you, Ess. Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her hand, his voice thick.

“Thank you for never giving up,” she replied, “for rescuing me, for giving me a family, and for showing me what love is. I don’t deserve you, but I’m very glad God doesn’t seem to know it.”

Esther sent a silent prayer that the Deity might continue to regard them benevolently.

In his cot, Nicholas James Frederick Babington woke. Seeing his parents, he did not cry but instead gurgled happily. Lord and Lady Babington did the same, if using slightly more adult means of expression.

**Author's Note:**

> Accuracies as to various aspects of Regency life, dates, word usage, etc have been fact-checked. The Egyptian poems are genuine, with modern translations. I had to fudge a bit and say they were ancient Greek translations, as Champollion would not decode the Rosetta Stone for another few years.


End file.
